The Grudge Begins Between Ireland and England
by 08hurley
Summary: In 1847, Ireland went to England's house seeking help, but his unwillingness will only leave her more bitter than before. The relationship between the two will become strained forever. *Scotland is mentioned, but not present. Listed him as a character because there is no Ireland on the list.


The Grudge Begins Between Ireland and England

Ireland walked down the paved streets of London towards her half-brothers house. She was exhausted and hungry, not just from the trip, but from the situation going on her home. Her clothes, although presentable, certainly saw signs of wore in some of the seams. The coloration was also faded. She certainly felt out of place seeing some of the fancier garments that the Londoners on Downing Street presented themselves in. Their attire reminded her of North's outfits. Unfortunately, she didn't have either the money or the time to buy new clothes. By comparison to what a majority of her people wore; however, she counted her blessings that she was a country and thus could find better clothing. But she also knew all to well that her citizens didn't enjoy the same privilege.

As she walked closer to England's, it began to rain. Some of the Londoners still out walking at this hour began to pick up the pace and head for home. Ireland didn't mind; she was quite used to the rain. Not that she could hurry anyway because even moving was painful. She felt another strike of pain shoot up from her stomach and grimaced. She was starving. The famine was ravaging her country and many of her people were left without sustenance. The scale of this famine was horrific – everyone was affected, even Dublineers were under considerable stress to provide nourishment for their families. Even she herself could barely afford to find proper food, and she was Ireland. Even when she did have a chance to eat it didn't sustain her one bit as if the collective starvation of all the Irish people kept her starving as well. She could feel it everywhere on her body; the Irish were dying in droves, everyone except for the Northern Irish, by and large, of course. Her brother and his people seemed to always find something to eat. She originally asked him for help expecting it from her Irish twin; however, he said that he had too little to giveaway and wished her best. She hated him for that at first, but later she figured that North's claim possibly had some merit. Surely, even he was affected significantly by this catastrophe, even if less than her, and maybe the little he did have were completely necessary to keeping his house afloat.

This thought made sense to her, but England and Scotland's place weren't affected by the famine at all, and England was doing well now on the world stage with all his colonies and everything. She remembered him bragging about "the family's" newfound growth through his new colonial acquisitions at the last few family gatherings. It was practically all he could talk about. "There'll be more money for us and more luxuries and more everything," she remembered him saying before he trolled off about how he could never have done this with America still hanging around and that it proved to have been a good decision to let him go after all. Certainly he could give a helping hand in this crisis. He had the money and despite a few conflicts of interest they have had in the past, they were family. It was the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, after all.

After much stress, Ireland finally got to England's door and knocked. The rain was coming down considerably now. With the gas light flashing through the droplets it was actually a beautiful, rainy night all things considered. She knocked again, she probably should have notified him beforehand, she thought.

Light burst out onto the front porch as the door opened. "Ireland?" England said a little off-guard. "I wasn't expecting you. Come in! You must be getting drenched out there. Come in or you'll catch your death."

"Hello there, Iggy," Ireland quietly greeted him as she entered and walked towards the parlor. England noticed Ireland's state more clearly now with her in the light. He thought whether it could be due to that famine going on that he read about that killed some of the harvest in her home. Could it be that bad? He remembered Northern Ireland sent him a letter about it a few weeks ago, but he generally he was in good condition. Could Ireland's situation be worse?

"My God, you look dreadful," England said. Ireland nodded, "Yeah, I know. Sorry, I didn't tell you before hand."

"It's quite alright. Please, sit down," England said. "I'll fix you a spot of tea. I was just making some." England disappeared into the kitchen white Ireland took a seat down side the fireplace. She sat on a wooden one rather than on his velvet. She was drenched and she didn't want to damage any of his belongings. The house was radically warm in comparison to outside, and as she thought about, in comparison to her cottage. She used turf to heat her place, but England was using coal just like North was. She knew North got along better with England and Scotland than herself on account that they were the same religion and she was Catholic, but with that aside how come England couldn't hook her up with some coal? She figured it wouldn't be polite to raise this up, and after all she needed his help. It wouldn't do to criticize him now.

"Here you are," he said returning. He handed Ireland the cup. She began to sip. "This is pretty good," Ireland said. "Hadn't had anything like this in months. Is Scot here?"

"Ah, no, he's in Edinburgh for a little bit. He likes to get way from here when Parliament isn't in session. Pardon me, Ireland, and I hope you don't mind my saying so, but you look horrid" replied England. "I mean, what's wrong? Are you ill?"

"Well, England, things are a bit rough. Surely, you must heard about the famine that is ravaging my country?"

"Yes, I read a little bit about it in the paper, but I didn't think it was this serious! Also, North mentioned a little bit about it to me, but he was in good condition so I figured you were, too."

"Well, it is," she replied, "and I'm not. And I need your help." England was taken a little aback at this. Ireland never really asked for his help. Even after the her union with Scotland and himself after they conquered her land, she was still very bashful and proud and self-reliant. "You see some fungus or other swept through all the potato crops, and none of my people can afford the higher priced crops. And anything that does grow is taken away by the protestant landlords. My people desperately some help."

"I see," said England. He thought about this, and as much as he hated to see Ireland in this state personally, he couldn't really think of any solutions, or at least none that his people would accept. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

This response shocked Ireland. "I don't know what you mean, England! Send some aide of some kind, like more food. Allow the Catholic poor to keep some of the live crops, um, send some aide!"

"Well, Ireland, I mean its just the landlords own the land. They are entitled to the food grown on it."

"Wait, are you sitting there and actually _DEFENDING_ this callousness!" Ireland was apalled. This was not the response she expected from her brother. She knew they were arguing much recently, but this was, from her perspective, something that should transcend this. "Why? Why would you defend this?"

England realized Ireland's situation wad dire to a segment of her population, and it affected her deeply, but he stood by his convictions. "Well, this famine is obviously putting them into a jam, too. They need to do whatever to they can to support their families, and unfortunately that means taking the little crops that survived. It's all completely legal."

"While my people die in the ditches and the fields? It's completely unethical!"

"The landlords are your people, too, Ireland. You seem to forget about that. You should also care about their concerns."

"No, they're not! They're your people!" Ireland was growing more and more disgusted at England's apparent lack of empathy. "Their protestant, and they trace ancestry back to the first English settlers after you annexed me into your United Kingdom! And its not fair that they get to eat up what little is left while the native, Celtic, Catholic majority die of starvation! While their families and their children die!"

"Be that as it may, Ireland," England retorted, "They own the land. If they give the little surviving crop left, then they might put their lives and their children's lives at risk. And then what would that accomplish. They own the land and the food and they need to use it to provide for their needs," England could see the fire Ireland was cultivating in her gaze as he said this, but he didn't pay it any heed. He was England, the primary representative nation of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland both at home and abroad, and it wouldn't do him any good if he didn't stand by his convictions and principles. "Land ownership and the freedom that accompanies it is the most important value that our United Kingdom holds the most dear."

Ireland was building up a rage. The adrenaline blocked out the pain. If England weren't so strong, she'd hit him there and then. "_Protestant _land ownership is the value that your United Kingdom holds the most dear. The only reason that my Celtic people don't own their land is because YOU TOOK THAT LAND AWAY FROM THEM!" Ireland shouted.

England was not going to take this shouting likely. He found Ireland to be pretty rude. He was the main provider for the family and this was his house. From his perspective, Ireland was acting very rudely. "That's because, Ireland, I won your land in a war. When I won you agreed to concede your land to me, just like Wales and Alba* and Scotland* did! Your twin brother* has no complaints. I think you're being very ungrateful for all I've done for you and your brothers. I treat you all well!"

"They all don't complain because you treat them well! Their people get to read and got to school and own their land while mine are serfs! You don't let my people or even me for that matter read even after I taught you everything when you were small! My people and I are starving and you show no signs of even lifting your finger, and you dare to say that you treat me well? You treat Scotland and Wales and North well and treat me as dirt! And all because I'm the only one who remained Catholic after you went on your spree of heresy!"

"That's enough Ireland!" England was beginning to rage himself. "How dare you! You show up at my door at an ungodly hour, issue demands to me, raise your voice to me, and to top it all of, you insult my, no, OUR king's religion? You get out of here at once!" England threw his pointed finger at the door. Ireland wanted to strike him or at least yell at him some more about his evilness. But she realized that that wouldn't have done any good. After a long, awkward silence, she finally said, "Fine," and proceeded to the door. She opened it to feel the wind hit her face. It was pouring outside now. She turned around to England; he was looking away towards the fireplace. "You know, I've taken a lot of shite from you these past 800 years. But I've kept my head down and I've worked hard for you. And I never once bitched or moaned about anything unlike the other lot. I've farmed and payed my quotas and paid the rent on my house on time whenever you asked. But yet still you show me no respect!"

England shut his eyes in anger; Ireland's most recent remarks had struck a couple of raw nerves. He turned around and faced her. Their eyes locked.

"LEAVE!" England yelled as he pointed towards the door again. "Get out of my house! I've had enough of this disparaging barrage!"

Ireland just stared at him. She tried to think of something to say, perhaps something that could amend the situation. But she could think of nothing. She kenw firmly in her heart and mind that she was justified in her sentiment. England revealed his true character tonight, and there would be no convincing him She decided that she said everything she had to say. She turned to leave, but before doing so she faced England one last time.

She just stood there looking at him for a brief second. he had returned his gaze towards the dying embers in the fireplace.

I'll never forgive you for this."

She slammed the door on her way out into the cold, London rain. Ireland was enraged as she walked down the wet streets. She could feel no more hunger - nly rage. She couldn't stand to look at these luxurious London houses. The whole air and smell of London filled her with disdain. She sought the quickest route back home; back to her island.

England stood there alone in the parlor. The fire was only a perishing ember giving up on its quest for continued life. He took Ireland's unfinished tea in his hand. He took a sip, but it had gone cold. "Perhaps," England uttered. "Perhaps…"

He never finished his thought. There was no point as far as he was concerned. Whatever he did now would ultimately be futile, or so he imagined. Ireland had made it very clear – she despised him. Their relationship had been strained ever since her occupation, and was further so since Henry VIII declared the Church of England the official religion of the state. But from here on they had no relationship as far as she was concerned. He began to think where it wrong. How could it have degraded to the point it was at tonight. England never hated Ireland, at least he didn't think so. he admired here hard work, her pride. Aside from Scotland, she was probably the greatest person in the family; much more mature than her twin brother and perhaps even Wales and Isle of Man. It was because of her that he was educated and learned Christianity; she taught him when they were kids.* Maybe if he didn't hate her personally, did his people hate her? He hasn't heard any of his people say anything disparaging or belittling about ireland recently aside from the occasional Irish joke told by street urchins. But the more he reflected, the more he realized just how many times ireland and himself conflicted over the years on various issues. Has it always been culminating to this point? In any case, he concluded that it was irrelevant. What matters was that she hated him now, more so than even America hated him. Now, she'd look for anyway to spite him and hurt him. She loathed him beyond rationality, and in all possibility nothing could ever mend the relationship.

And as England stood there staring into the dying fire, he couldn't help but think that it was his fault.

Footnotes:

*I know that Scotland and England merged peacefully with the appointment of King James (the V I think) to the throne and not through a war, but England is just proving a point here and not actually trying to accurately recount history.

*Alba is the Gaelic word for the Isle of Man. Yes, I decoded that the culture of Isle of Man was distinct enough from the mainland British Isles to constitute its own avatar. I figured that Isle of Man was a bit clumsy for the countries and that Alba just sounded better.

*Ireland and Northern Ireland are twins, I decided. I admit that it might be more accurate that Northern Ireland could be a younger brother kind of like how Southern Italy is older than Northern Italy, but they are both completely Celtic (with most Northerners having Scottish ancestry) to make them twins with North being the younger of the twins. The main difference is that, aside from the Scots-Irish aspect of Northern Irish culture, is that North is protestant and Ireland is Catholic. Ireland calls North Ulster when its just the two of them because thats the quadrant of Ireland that he represents and North in return calls Ireland "Free State" after she declares independence. At this point in time, he calls her just Erin.

*In the medieval ages, Ireland was relatively unaffected by the Dark Ages' damage to European education due to a very early conversion to Christianity. The Irish church sent monks on education missions to spread both religion and education to England and even mainland Europe. This has been credited as one of the major factors in the revival of the Latin language as the elite language of mainland Europe after the fall of Western Rome. However, during the British occupation it was illegal to educate Catholics, thus Ireland's anger over that.


End file.
